


A Good Fit

by CommaSplice



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/pseuds/CommaSplice
Summary: Asha, Davos, and Margaery find themselves in need of staff for their startup food subscription company.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/gifts).



* * *

Davos Seaworth picked up and set down the various résumés.

“We need to make a decision on this soon.” Margaery had her notes in front of her, not that she would need to refer to them. 

Davos knew Margaery was right. When it came to Vinegars & Vidalias, she usually was. But it was a big move for the three of them and their startup. They would be doubling their staff. 

Asha clearly thought she knew why he was hesitating. “If we don’t hire, the three of us are going to burn out.”

They would. Even with hiring three people, Margaery, Asha, and he would still be working constantly, but it would help and it would allow their company to grow. “I know. It’s just a big step.” He exhaled. There were other reasons this was overwhelming him, but those were personal and this was not the right place or time to share them. “All right. Thoughts on our applicants?”

Margaery turned one of the packets around so that they could see the name. “I thought she had a lot going for her.”

The applicant in question was a freshly minted university graduate. Sansa Stark had not impressed Davos at first—she had been almost diffident in person, but Margaery had drawn her out and by the end of the interview, Ms. Stark had relaxed enough that her intelligence and creativity had shown through. 

“Asha?” Davos asked.

Asha flipped through Ms. Stark’s portfolio. “Well, I liked her better than that Rylene and she had some good ideas for social media, but she was beyond shy.”

Margaery waved that away. “She managed to survive an internship for Cersei Lannister. She’ll get over that.”

“Okay.” Asha tossed the portfolio in front of Margaery. “Fine with me. Besides I really don’t have a horse in this race. I’m not the one who’s going to have to work with her on a regular basis.”

Margaery looked to Davos, who nodded. She then suggested a starting salary so low that he was appalled. She shrugged. “If she’s smart, she’ll ask for a few thousand more and we’ll settle in the middle.”

“And then the poor kid will be able to afford something other than Kraft dinner once a week.” Asha was staring at Margaery too. 

“We’re giving Ms. Stark an opportunity to gain valuable work experience and contacts.” Margaery spoke in a tone that suggested there was no room for further discussion. “All right. We have . . .” She made a show of looking at the résumés. “Samwell Tarly, Walda Frey, or Eddison Tollett.” Margaery pursed her lips. “Maybe we should wait and see if we get more applicants.”

Asha shook her head. “I say we hire now. If the person we pick doesn’t work out, we can make a change, but I need help like immediately.”

The three contenders made for a diverse group. Davos could see why Margaery was hesitating. She had a vision for their business and he had the feeling that none of the three applicants fit it. At the same time, this definitely was a startup—you only had to look around their office with its bright green carpet and fake wood paneling to know that. It was going to be a while before they would be swamped with highly qualified applicants. 

“This is an easy call.” Asha held up one of the packets. “This Edd guy might be fun to go out drinking with, but he couldn’t even make it through the interview without sarcasm and his references all mentioned him having attitude. I do not need that in my test kitchen.” She tossed that one down. “Absolutely no on Samwell Tarly.”

“He seemed bright,” Davos said, more because he had felt sorry for the lad than from any real desire to hire him.

“If he gets the job, I will kill him within the week. I can tell. Now Walda,” Asha paused. “I may kill her too, but I think that might take me six months, and maybe by then we can find someone else. So that leaves us with one last position.”

Margaery clearly wasn’t thrilled that her suggestion had been shot down, but she knew when to pick her battles. She treated them to that very sincere smile, the one that Davos had come to dread, “I think the choice is obvious—”

“—I’m glad we agree.” Davos had a fair idea who she thought the obvious choice was: Harrold Hardyng, the young man with the perfect teeth and the impeccable credentials. He had looked fine on paper, but he had rubbed Davos the wrong way. If Davos was a betting man (and sometimes he was), he’d wager that the smarmy Harrold would soon be in the news for embezzlement or fraud. Davos could smile easily too. “Stannis Baratheon. I’ll phone him and make the offer.”

“That was the guy who kept grinding his teeth?”

“Asha, I could be wrong, but I don’t believe we can discriminate based on the man’s TMJ.”

“No, I was just making sure I had the right one. He’s fine with me.”

Margaery could no longer contain her eye rolls. “Are you serious? We’ve got someone who went to one of the finest universities, who has a ton of experience working for some really impressive. Someone who is a good fit for us.”

“So why does he want to work for us at a really low salary no less?” Asha didn’t wait for an answer. “Harrold here hasn’t worked anywhere for more than a year at a go. That’s a red flag if ever I saw one. We could only reach one of his references and I’m pretty sure that was his mom using a false name. The other guy might have the personality of Eeyore, but Stannis Baratheon is qualified for what we need and is probably willing to settle for our shitty salary because he’s on the wrong side of forty and lost his job when his long-term employer went bust. All his references check out. Let’s give him a shot and if we don’t like him, we can go back to the well.”

Margaery seemed persuaded, albeit reluctantly. 

“So we’re done here?” It was phrased as a question, but Asha was already on her feet. “Good. Then we can get back to work.”

“He’ll be fine,” Davos said to Margaery, who was taking her time about straightening the papers.

“Your enthusiasm for Stannis of the clenched jaw wouldn’t have anything to do with his deep blue eyes and trim physique, would it?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to venture the thought that Margaery had taken Sansa Stark’s copper red hair and long legs into consideration when evaluating her qualifications, but they had a business to run. “Asha said it better than I could have.”

Margaery gave him a shrewd look, but finally shrugged it off. 

Davos told himself that she was wrong. So what if it had felt like coming home when his hand had been clasped in the other man’s?

* * *

“I baked,” Sansa said by way of greeting. “Salted caramel brownies.”

Davos and Asha, who could always eat, perked right up. Margaery was constantly watching her weight, but she spared Sansa an appreciative smile. This was probably, Sansa figured, far less about the brownies and more about something else, but she decided not to think about that right now. Only Walda’s smile had any hostility in it.

“I don’t get it,” Walda said.

“What?” Sansa set down the Fiestaware platter on the small table that also held the coffeemaker and settled in at her desk.

“How you manage to take the bus and still get your food here looking so perfect.” 

“Stannis gave me a ride. He’s a very . . . careful driver.” As soon as she said the words, she sensed they had been a mistake. There was instant tension in the room. Not from Walda, although there was definitely still some resentment there. “They won’t taste as good as anything you and Asha make.” This was true, although that wasn’t why she was saying it. Asha had been to culinary school, and even if Walda had no formal training, she was nearly as expert and really pretty creative. “I’m just an amateur. I hope it’s all right that I brought them in. I like baking and I used to do it at home, but it’s just me now and, well . . .”

Walda apparently decided to be generous. “You did the right thing. Don’t worry. You’ll get better. You just have to practice.”

That took care of her, but Margaery and Davos were still darting their eyes between her and Stannis, who had come in behind her, oblivious to any undercurrents. He took a brownie at Sansa’s pressing, set it down, powered up his PC, and immediately focused on some incredibly complicated-looking Excel spreadsheet. 

He was probably the least social of all the people in the Vinegars & Vidalias office, but Sansa thought she knew where he was coming from. She had worked temp office jobs when she had been in university and Vinegars & Vidalias was not like anything in her experience. 

Everyone, even the three partners, sat in one big room carpeted in AstroTurf green. To get to the office, you walked through an anteroom that was shared space with another company. Sansa still wasn’t sure what this company did because the owners were never there, but they had decorated the anteroom with life-size cutouts of Jerry Lee Lewis. Sansa only knew it was Jerry Lee Lewis because Uncle Brandon had recognized the picture she had sent him from her phone. There were eight cutouts. Sansa had counted.

And when you got inside, it was very different. Sansa hadn’t told anyone, not even her therapist, about the singing, mainly because how could you explain to normal people that your coworkers were obsessed with show tunes and as like to burst into “The Quintet” from _West Side Story_ as they were to talk about a business strategy? The first time this had happened Stannis had looked like he was ready to grab his coat and the framed photo of his daughter that he kept on his desk and run. Sansa had been nearly ready to run too (Walda, by contrast, had joined right in).

You just didn’t do stuff like that at a bank or a financial firm. It also didn’t help their rendition of “The Quintet” that none of them were particularly good singers and that neither Asha nor Margaery were sopranos. 

It was also the first clue Sansa had received that maybe Margaery wasn’t as out of place in Vinegars & Vidalias as she had first thought. 

But Sansa generally felt at ease here in a way she’d never felt at any of the big firms she’d interned at. The partners valued her work and her ideas and they were willing to listen to anything she suggested.

“If you’re ready, we should probably head out to the farm now.” Margaery’s tone wasn’t as warm as it usually was. 

Sansa grabbed the bag with her camera and her purse and followed her out of the office. Somehow in the five minutes between walking and walking out of Vinegars & Vidalias, a new life-sized cutout of Jerry Lee Lewis had appeared. There was no sign of the owners of the other office. 

She shook it off and thought about their destination. They needed content for both the subscription boxes and for their social media accounts. Farm-to-table was still really big and an awful lot of their customers _loved_ the notion that the contents of those boxes came from farms run by actual people and not some giant corporation. Sansa had ideas of the images she wanted. “I brought photo release forms just in case.”

Margaery barely responded. They were pulling out of the lot when she decided there was another, worthier topic of conversation. “Stannis has a crush on you.”

“What?”

“Every time I look up, he’s staring at you and he always leaps at the chance to help you out when you leave to take photos of the food.”

Sansa thought back to what both her therapist and her mentor from the university alumni network had suggested. 

“I hadn’t noticed. So I definitely want to get some shots of the crops. Depending on the lighting, it might also be good to have some images of how it’s boxed and . . .” 

Margaery was paying absolutely no attention.

Did all women have to go through this? Sansa had spent half her adolescence avoiding men twice her age, who either seemed to think she was some kind of prize or their chance to get their innocence back. Uni hadn’t changed anything, except now the men were either professors or psychos like Joffrey. 

Somehow she was supposed to be an object, something to be won or fought over, and when she dared to say no or try and fight back, all she got was grief for not being this docile little doll in a box. Even when she was with straight women, the tension was in the air. It had taken six months of therapy for Sansa to realize that Cersei Lannister probably loathed her because the older woman was working out unresolved issues related to her own physicality and desirability. 

Sansa didn’t need the therapist to tell her that Margaery was interested in her for a whole other set of reasons. And while Sansa wasn’t certain how she felt about Margaery, she did know that her motivation for taking the job at Vinegars & Vidalias had been because she thought it would be helpful to her career and not because she wanted to find a girlfriend. 

“I’m pretty sure Stannis sees me as a kid. He has a daughter who’s a couple of years younger than me and the few times we’ve talked, it’s mostly been about what I think she might like for her name day or if I think he should be worried about how serious Shireen is about the guy she’s seeing. Besides,” Sansa paused before giving her next words more emphasis than she normally would, “I don’t think I’m his type.”

“Oh.” At least now Margaery was pursing her lips, probably making that adorably crooked smile. 

“I’m not really comfortable talking about this, because I don’t think it’s appropriate to the workplace, but I’m kind of taking a break from relationships for now. I just got through a really bad one.”

“Oh,” Margaery said for the second time.

“Yeah. It was with someone who treated me like a possession. Anyhow, it’s over now. Storm’s End is a new city for me and this is my first real job. I want to get my bearings first.” Sansa shifted her camera bag to the other side of her legs. “How do the farmers look? Anyone who might be good to have in the shots?”

Margaery sat up a little straighter then.

Good, she got it, Sansa thought.

Almost as if to confirm that, Margaery refocused on the job at hand and thankfully stopped talking about Stannis Baratheon. 

Stannis _did_ have a crush. You didn’t need a rocket scientist to figure that out, but Sansa was surprised that Margaery seemed to think it was on her. His deep blue eyes weren’t fixed on her, but on Davos, who had the desk right next to hers. And the reason he always jumped at the chance to help with the photoshoots probably had something to do with the fact that everybody but Davos was involved in that process. He most likely didn’t want to be in the office alone with the object of his affections.

It was too bad really, because from what Sansa had observed, Stannis Baratheon’s “crush” was totally reciprocated.

* * *

As a rule Walda tried hard not to eavesdrop. The Seven knew that she’d had plenty of practice trying not to focus in on words clearly not meant for her ears. You couldn’t grow up in a family like hers without being exposed to a lot of stuff, but the office here was so small and sometimes it was inevitable.

“Gran, I would love to have you visit, but the office isn’t really that . . . No, it’s not that. We’re a startup. We just weren’t able to pay for an impressive space. There’s nothing here for you to see.”

There was actually quite a bit to see, but Walda knew none of it was likely to impress relatives, certainly not someone as wealthy as Margaery’s grandmother. Her own boyfriend had been by exactly once after hours when everyone else had gone. This had been long enough for him to determine any risks to her safety (dim lighting in the parking lot and too many blind corners) and that she should start looking for another job immediately, preferably one without any Jerry Lee Lewis memorabilia in the vicinity. 

The conversation continued on. Bits of it registered. It sounded like Margaery had freaked out her family by not going down a more traditional route. They were worried. There was a division all waiting for her at their own corporation. 

Walda kept on scribbling down her ideas for the April box. Asha was giving her free rein on this. It would be her own concept. Walda wanted to do something really different with the vinegars. She had lots of thoughts, but they were swirling around in her head. 

Swirling, she thought. Their barrel-aged balsamic drizzled on strawberry basil ice cream. She wrote that down. 

Margaery hung up the phone. “I just want to do something that’s my own. Why is that so hard for her to understand?”

Walda assumed this was rhetorical and remembered a panna cotta recipe that had called for vinegar. 

“It’s hard because she’s probably used to seeing and thinking of you in one set way,” Sansa said. “When you act differently, that changes the dynamic and that’s uncomfortable for her. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; it’s just hard not to overhear.”

“No,” Margaery said, clearly struck by this. “That’s really astute.” She pursed her lips together. “So what do I do?”

“Well, you most likely have a set way you respond. You could think about how you could change how you react.”

“Hmmm.”

Stannis, who ordinarily had the superhuman ability not to be drawn into the activity around him, set down his pen. “The couples’ therapist recommended that to my ex-wife and I and we found it very useful.”

Asha snorted. “If you got divorced, how successful could it be?”

“It enabled us to come to a conclusion we probably should have reached years ago to end the marriage and in an amicable fashion.”

Walda stopped her brainstorming. They were all a pretty open group of people. Oh, there were topics or people that didn’t get mentioned—Sansa, for example never talked about her romantic life, although Walda was pretty sure there had been one, and Davos kept very quiet about why his marriage had fallen apart. Walda had never named her boyfriend because she wanted to respect his wishes for privacy, but otherwise it was all out there. The exception to this was Stannis. He had a photo of his daughter and would occasionally admit to her existence, but aside from that, outside Vinegars & Vidalias, he might never have existed. Walda didn’t even know what his favorite foods were.

So for him to come out and mention an ex-wife and that he had been in couples therapy was about as unusual as a lunar eclipse. 

“How long were you married?” Davos asked. He leaned forward.

Walda had noted that there was always this weird tension in the office between the two men. Most of the time it was an undercurrent, quietly present if you paid very close attention. But then, just like now, every so often, she could feel it like it was a palpable thing. She suspected that if anyone but Davos had asked that question, Stannis would have shut down. 

“Sixteen years.”

“Long time.”

They might as well not been in the room, Walda realized. And unlike the conversation between Margaery and her grandmother, this felt so intensely private that she decided to excuse herself to go check the supplies in the test kitchen.

* * *

As she unlocked the inner office door, Margaery sighed. There were now officially eleven Jerry Lee Lewis cutouts in the anteroom. The business was not yet at the point where they were likely to have visitors at the office, but at some point, they would. And then what would happen?

Would their reaction be like Grandmother’s upon recognizing the likeness?

_“Nearly as bad as a Targaryen, marrying his thirteen-year-old cousin like that!”_

Margaery had tried contacting the owner of the other office, but all her efforts had been in vain. If Brightroar Industries had a web site, she couldn’t find it. There was no phone number listed and when she tried to get one from the property management company, it turned out that no number was on file. The owner of Brightroar paid his rent in cash on time. He refused to respond to any of the notes Margaery had slipped under his door. Until they could afford better space, they would need to resign themselves to his shrine to The Killer.

The notes of “In My Life” from _Les Misérables_ wafted out of the open door causing Margaery to jump. “What are you doing here?”

“I would have thought you’d have plans for a Saturday,” Davos said on seeing her. “I came in to get caught up on the bills.”

“I wanted to double check those projections.”

Davos turned down the sound. “Stannis did that.”

“He’s not a partner.”

Davos sighed. “I know you weren’t keen on the man, but he’s working out well for us.”

Margaery hated to admit it, but he was right. Stannis was a very capable, very thorough employee. If she didn’t care for him personally, she had to admit that his skillset filled a much needed gap. 

“This distrust wouldn’t have something to do with his crush on Sansa, would it?” When she didn’t answer, Davos went on, “You might want to watch that, lass. I don’t pretend to be a business school graduate, but if the girl is—”

She held up a hand to stop him. They knew a certain amount about each other. He had told her about his marriage and subsequent divorce. What he hadn’t divulged as to the reasons why, Margaery had guessed. Margaery had intimated enough and disclosed enough that her orientation was out there. “It’s not a problem.”

“His infatuation or yours?”

Margaery didn’t flinch. “Mine is handled and according to Sansa, he doesn’t have those feelings for her.” Margaery hadn’t really given that a lot of weight during the conversation. Without coming out and saying anything directly, Sansa had drawn the boundaries very, very deliberately, and by the time that discussion had ended, Margaery knew damn well she needed to stop behaving like Sansa was hers for the taking. If she didn’t stop, Sansa was not going to stand for it. Besides it wasn’t appropriate and it wasn’t right morally. But maybe in addition to making it clear that she wasn’t up for grabs, Sansa had been right about the text of what she was saying after all. 

_“I don’t think I’m his type.”_

Stannis _was_ prone to staring, but now as Margaery thought about where his desk was and where his eye line was going, she realized what Sansa had been trying to say. “I don’t think it’s Sansa he has the crush on.”

“Then who does he—oh. Oh. You’re sure?”

“I am.”

Davos massaged the back of his neck. “You weren’t wrong when you suggested I was attracted to him.”

“I should never have said it was why you wanted to hire him, though.” She sank into her chair. “The thing is, my crush? It’s starting to be more than that for me.”

“You’re not alone.”

It left them both in one hell of a quandary. Vinegars & Vidalias might be a startup, but they were both the employers and Sansa and Stannis were employees. It would be utterly disastrous for them to ever try and pursue anything.

* * *

When Stannis returned from lunch, only Davos was there.

“Sansa left you instructions on sharing the latest social media posts.”

Stannis decided to focus on the sheet of paper with the carefully detailed directives rather than look at his employer or his muscled forearms. “I still do not understand why she is so insistent I do this.”

“It increases our visibility and it’s true our orders have gone up.”

Stannis did understand the theory. Vinegars & Vidalias was a fledgling company. According to Sansa, most people had large social networks. If the six of them shared the posts, tweets, blogs, photos from the company’s various social media accounts with their own social networks, the company’s reach would be greater. 

The problem was that he had no social network. Before taking this job, he had only dimly been aware of Facebook, Twitter, and the dozen other services out there. He had no desire to reach out to old school classmates or business connections. But although none of the partners had come out and ordered him to establish the accounts, Margaery had left him with the strong impression it would go a long way to securing their confidence in hiring him if he did so. 

After some deliberation, Stannis has complied. To his surprise, he _liked_ working here. It went beyond his growing feelings for Davos. If the company lacked the stratified, orderly atmosphere of a cube farm, it offered him opportunities he’d never enjoyed before. The partners of Vinegars  & Vidalias were open to suggestions and welcomed initiative. His ideas were given as much consideration as anyone’s.

And somehow, he _fit_ here. This might be a temporary position for him, but it gave Stannis hope that during the year or two he would need here to gain new skills and experiences before moving on to a position with a higher income and benefits, he would enjoy coming to work. 

“I had doubts about it myself.”

“I only have five followers on Facebook and one on everything else.”

The five consisted of Shireen, Robert, the only two high school classmates who hadn’t actively tormented him, and for some inexplicable reason, his barber. 

“I have about twenty.” Davos shrugged. “Seven of them are my sons. Every last one of them considers cooking to involve microwaving popcorn, but apparently since they have hundreds of followers, it does have some impact.”

Every time Davos mentioned his sons, Stannis tensed. Every time he dared hope that perhaps Davos really was interested in him, the number seven resurfaced. One child, even two or three, and Stannis could explain it away. They were both older men, from a time when being openly gay or bisexual would have had huge consequences. Seven, however, seven suggested some level of certainty about one’s sexual orientation. “Shireen doesn’t cook either. I doubt any of her friends do either.”

“That’s your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“She has a kind face,” Davos said, gesturing to the photograph. He came closer.

Stannis resisted the urge to inhale. Davos wore neither aftershave nor cologne, but nonetheless he had a distinctive scent—one that Stannis felt he could get used to sensing.

“You know, if you don’t want to muck around with this social media stuff, you don’t have to.”

“Margaery implied that it was required.”

Davos cast a glance at the door before responding. “Margaery is very determined, but if the ever-growing display of our neighbors’ Jerry Lee Lewis paraphernalia outside hasn’t convinced you, allow me to tell you we are not a Fortune 500 company. I don’t think making you use social media is something we can expect from you.”

“Oh.”

Davos sat down in Sansa’s chair. “I don’t mind telling you that sometimes this company makes me feel my age. It used to be much simpler. Expectations were pretty set. Grow up, get a job, get married, have children.”

Stannis thought about his next words very carefully. “There were fewer . . . options. I am not so sure that was always a good thing.”

Davos nodded. “Not so good if you didn’t fit into those boxes.”

He had never been the most intuitive man, but Stannis realized what Davos was trying to say. 

“Going back to social media, we’re a small company. If you ever . . . I know we’re a bit . . . different . . . but we do try to keep to certain acceptable standards. If you ever feel pressured to do anything inappropriate, please just tell me—or one of the others. You should not be made to—that is, we cannot always do what we—”

“—I understand.”

They were not talking about social media anymore. Stannis nodded. He understood this too. It meant that as long as he stayed employed at Vinegars & Vidalias, he would not be getting to know Davos in the way in which he would like.

* * *  
_**One Year Later**_  
* * *

Asha picked up and set down the various résumés. The new space still felt odd. They were in a bona fide office park these days with no images of Jerry Lee Lewis in sight, life-sized or not. As much as she had groused about it, she kind of missed not being confronted by The Killer on a daily basis.

“We need to make a decision on this soon.” Margaery had her notes in front of her, not that she would need to refer to them. 

Asha knew Margaery was right. When it came to Vinegars & Vidalias, she usually was. “It’s just they were all such a good fit for us. I don’t know how we can begin to replace them.” She had an uneasy feeling Walda’s resignation would be coming her way soon as well. Just like Sansa and Stannis, she would be lining up a better-paying job now that she had more work experience under her belt. It was a lot of change.

“We got a good response to the ads, though, and most of them interviewed pretty well.” Davos said. “And the sooner we make a call, the sooner we can start enjoying a little free time.”

Margaery nodded enthusiastically. 

Asha found this odd. Both her partners were like her, extremely invested in the success of their company. Free time had been sacrificed on the altar the business a long time ago. “I just wish they would have stayed on a little longer. Another year maybe.”

Now they were shaking their heads with the vigor of small children who were denying wrongdoing.

“—absolutely the right thing for them to do for their careers—”

“—unfair to hold them back like that—”

“—best thing for them—”

“—best thing for us too—”

Both of them stopped and looked at each other and then very intently at their notes.

And then Asha got it. “Maybe we can find someone who’s as good a fit for me as Stannis and Sansa were for you two.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [shadowsfan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan/pseuds/shadowsfan) for looking this over at very short notice and thank you to [motheroffirkins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherofFirkins/pseuds/MotherofFirkins) for assisting me with brainstorming. And lastly, a very happy belated birthday to my giftee!


End file.
